


Malleable

by rhodrymavelyne



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:54:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22453738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhodrymavelyne/pseuds/rhodrymavelyne
Summary: Will meets up with Molly (whom he dated in high school) while rebounding over Hannibal in a bar. Nothing like making Will laugh after everything he’s been through…even if he knows this moment won’t last.
Relationships: Molly Graham/Will Graham, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Kudos: 18





	Malleable

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place almost right after Digestivo during the third season when Hannibal turned himself in. I don’t own Hannibal, but for the last several months, it has owned me.

Usually he avoided public places, where he’d meet other people, perhaps have to be social. 

Not tonight. Will Graham wanted a bar filled with ordinary folk, to be around the drunk and the unhappy. He wanted the air to swim with other people’s emotional problems, to remind himself that he was just one more. He wanted the burn of whiskey running down his throat, blurring the sharp, vivid image of Hannibal kneeling in the snow, hands behind his head. Watching him, assessing him. The Chesapeake Ripper willingly surrendering himself into custody at last. 

This had been his design. This was only way Will could stay true to both Hannibal and Jack. By delivering Hannibal into the hands of the law where he might survive and even be happy in his mind palace. By serving Jack one last time as his agent rather than following in Hannibal’s footsteps. By betraying both Hannibal and Jack. Again. 

Will pushed the door open, only to have his ears blasted the band playing on the stage. Everything he’d hoped for was inside. Crowds. People grumbling or drooping over glasses in front of them, wanting to be alone, not wanting to be alone. Light reflected off polished metal, blinding him. It was too much like the gleam in Hannibal’s eyes.

“You’ll now always know where to find me, Will.” Refusing to let him go, dropping to his knees and submitting to a cage rather than let Will Graham go. 

Yes, Hannibal, once again, I’ve played upon your passion for me. I’m not sure if you realize this or not. Why didn’t you simply tear my heart out in Florence and eat it? Only you were interested in my brain, not my heart. You always have been. You and Jack, you were the same in this. Perhaps that’s why you chose to crack open my skull in some absurd biblical parody of splitting the baby in half. Only you didn’t finish it. You didn’t eat me. You just left me with another scar. 

Will slid into an empty seat far from the stage and ordered two whiskeys. The song changed to something melancholy, something about innocence lost, left bleeding on the ground. 

Just when had Will lost his? He’d never been an innocent, not really. Funny how he kept finding more to lose. 

Something hot and itchy was building up behind his eyes. It was starting to leak out, weak and warm down his face. For a moment, he thought it was blood. No such luck. 

Will lifted a hand to wipe away the tears, only they kept coming. 

“Drinking and crying alone.” A familiar feminine voice addressed him. “Looks like someone broke your heart.”

Will looked up to see a round, rosy face he only dimly recalled from high school, full lips half grinning, not without sympathy. That smile conjured up memories of a high school dance, one of his last attempts to be social. “Molly.”

“Guilty.” She slid into the seat next to him and looked Will straight in the eye. “Been a long time, Will.”

“It has.” Will blinked, not entirely sure for a moment if she was real. “Last I heard, you were married and had a son.”

“It didn’t work out.” Molly lifted a hand to touch her neck self-consciously, a little sign of vulnerability and good humour he’d always found appealing. “I’m now a single mother.” She tapped a finger on the table. “Looks like it didn’t work out for you either.”

Like a slap in the face, Will found himself recalling Beverly’s smirk while Jimmy scowled at him. 

“You recovered fast, thanks to special care.” The coroner crossed his arms. “My boyfriend never makes me chicken soup when I’m sick, even when I’m at home.”

“Excuse me?” Will gazed at Jimmy Price, who had a halo of blurry haze, trying to make sense of what he was on about.

“He’s just jealous because Dr. Hannibal Lecter has been so attentive to you while you were in the hospital.” Beverly winked at Will. “Not to mention Hannibal dresses better than his boyfriend.”

“Just rub it in, Katz.” Jimmy looked Will up and down. “Guess those with big green eyes and super powers don’t have to try as hard.”

“I’ll trade you for a good night’s sleep with no dreams.” It had been meant as a joke. It fell flat.

Both of the coroners stared at him as if suddenly aware of they were fumbling with Jack Crawford’s fragile tea cup and he had a crack in him. A deep crack running through the foundation. 

“Are you all right?” Beverly gave Will a long, lingering glance, her smirk fading. “Maybe it was too soon to leave the hospital.” 

“It’s probably was,” Will agreed. Did this actually happen? Did not only Beverly, but Jimmy Price try to interact with him before his arrest? Did he somehow miss it? 

He did miss Beverly Katz. She almost became a friend, but she’d never gotten the chance. Not before Hannibal killed her, carved her up, and arranged the pieces in a mocking design, which was also a message. See what happens when you get too close to me, Will. I’ll do this to anyone who gets too close to you. 

Only Hannibal couldn’t hurt anyone, not any more. Will Graham had locked the beast away for good, no. The beast had chosen to go into the cage willingly for his sake. Whether it was slaughtering his loved ones, or laying down his weapons before them, Hannibal had done both for Will. 

A choked laugh emerged as a sob from Will’s throat. He shut his eyes, trying to stop the stream of tears. 

“That bad, huh?” There was no acquisitive curiosity in Molly’s voice, only sympathy. She reached out to pat Will’s arm. 

“Yeah.” Will rubbed his eyes, tried to grin, only the expression twisted on his mouth. “I’m like a tea cup that’s been shattered on the floor, over and over again. I keep pulling myself back together, only to be broken.” He let out another choked laugh. “You’d think I’d know better than to let myself be within reach of someone who enjoys breaking me.”

“Talk about being thraped.” Molly shook her head. “I can only imagine what it’s like having the Chesapeake Ripper in your head.”

The crudeness of the comment was a bit shocking after Hannibal, Jack, and even Alana’s company. It would have made Will smile, if it hadn’t taken him by surprise. 

“How…?” Will widened his eyes, gazed at Molly through a haze of tears.

“You’re quite the celebrity on Tattlecrime. Freddie Lounds seems to have a real mad-on for you.” Molly leaned her chin on her hand in a way that invited him to grin along with her. “What did you do, insult her hat?”

Will found the grin tugging at his lips in spite of the tears. “I might have said her style of journalism was tasteless and vulgar. More than once.”

“Ouch! Rejected by an attractive, articulate man!” Molly pressed both hands in her chest in a dramatic fashion. “She’s never going to forgive you, you know.”

“No?” Freddie had never forgiven him, but she was willing to overlook this, if she could use Will to achieve her goals. In her way, she was just as dangerous as Hannibal. Her brand of journalism didn’t just trivialize. It branded and marked a person as something less than that. The pamphleteers who’d dehumanized Marie Antoniette back in the eighteenth century must have been very like Freddie Lounds. 

Better Will than Abigail. Will could only hope the flicker of feeling Freddie had for Abigail was as genuine as Hannibal’s had been. Not that Hannibal’s feelings had stopped him from killing Abigail. Psychopaths tended to shatter teacups without realizing how precious they were. 

“You kicked her in the pride in several senses.” Molly’s words returned him back to the here and now. She was leaning back in her seat, glancing from time to time at the ceiling. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Not a fan of Tattlecrime?” For the first time in too long, Will found his grin was lingering around his mouth. It was a refreshing sensation. 

“Well, considering what it said about you, I can tell it wasn’t accurate.” Molly leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. “I may not know you very well, but to label you as a psychopath shows she didn’t know you at all.” 

“How can you be sure?” How could Molly know this, when he, Will wasn’t sure? He’d gotten so tangled up with Hannibal Lecter, he was no longer sure where he ended and the other man began. 

“You’re so careful around everyone. Back in high school, you avoided people, but that was as much to avoid hurting them as it was yourself.” Molly tilted her head back while keeping her eyes on him. “Sometimes I’d see a little glimmer of that in the articles, as if the real you was peeking his head out of the picture painted. He hadn’t changed that much.” Once more she quirked her mouth upwards in a smile, inviting him to join her in the universal joke of it all. “The impression I got was someone needed you to become a psychopath. And you, Will Graham, have a hard time saying no to anyone who needs you, no matter whom they might be, or how much they might hurt you.” 

No matter whom they might be or how much they might hurt you. These words struck him with the force of a series of blows. Hannibal had needed him and he, Will, had needed Hannibal. This need drew him into Hannibal’s orbit, his world, changing him in Hannibal’s image. 

“I wasn’t as malleable as you.” Chiyoh’s words returned to him, a second blow striking against his memory. Malleable, yes. He’d allowed their mutual need to shape him, transform him into something he didn’t really want to be. 

Did he have to be malleable to other people’s wishes? He’d allowed his empathy to guide him so long, he wasn’t sure what he’d be without it. 

“You may be right.” Will bowed his head in Molly’s direction. “Thank you. I think…I really needed to hear someone say that.” He leaned back his head. “I think I really needed to smile, even for one moment.”

“Does this mean you’ll allow me to buy you a drink?” Molly raised an eyebrow. “Maybe tell me about the man who stole your smile?”

“I’m not sure if I’m ready for that.” Will gave Molly a little sideways glance. “I’d love a drink, though.”

“Let’s take it slow, then.” Molly waved over to the bartender.

“I’d like that.” Will studied the curve of her chin, her lips, the light of wry humour lingering in her eyes. 

Let me go, Hannibal, please. Let me have this moment, let me be myself again, even if it’s just for a little while. 

It won’t last, Will. He could almost see Hannibal’s dark eyes, lingering upon him, ready to swallow Molly, this bar, everything into himself. You know it won’t. 

Perhaps it wouldn’t. Will doubted anything or anyone would be able to take him away from Hannibal, not for very long. 

He needed a rest. He needed to be something other than a hunter, a killer, someone who lived inside other people’s heads. He needed to find out if there was anything else left of him. 

If nothing else, he needed another drink. 

In spite of himself, Will found himself smiling. Again. 

Molly said nothing. She just smiled back.

**Author's Note:**

> I remember Dean Winchester using the word ‘thraped’ on Supernatural. It seemed right for Molly to use it here.


End file.
